


A Snakeskin (but No Snake)

by mimikutie



Category: Coraline (2009), Coraline - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Gen, it may help to have some familiarity with both bc i make references to both of them, mixture of movie and book canon, takes place after the main story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimikutie/pseuds/mimikutie
Summary: Coraline bounded back into the kitchen with a cardboard box of dolls and plastic teacups she had received from Mel’s mother but had only played with a few times, as her cast of players in elaborate stories. The new tablecloth had been thrown over the box and only a few painted eyes looked out from underneath. She had a thick black ribbon around her neck that led under her collar. She took the plastic pitcher from where she’d left it on the counter during her search that morning and began to fill it from the sink, bunching her free hand in her coat pocket.Something new occurred to Mel. “Have another one of those weird dreams?”Coraline looked up from her handiwork, studying her like she’d spoken in a code she was working to decipher. “I had a dream that some ghosts and I were playing together. When I woke up though, I think they’d all moved on.”Mel and Charlie have finally submitted their catalog and it seems like things are finally starting to look up for the Joneses. Coraline has been acting strangely though, happier in some ways, strange in most others. Mel is sure that something is off, but she can't place exactly what.
Relationships: Charlie Jones & Coraline Jones & Mel Jones, Charlie Jones/Mel Jones
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. Protective Coloration

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by ['the moral of snow white is never eat apples'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518792) by junebugtwin, which I hope updates soon. Regardless, I wish them the best. Go check it out.

Mel breathed easier after the catalog had been completed, a kind of dread had unwound itself from around her. Maybe she had the sense that the adjustment to the house, the move, and the car accident could be put behind them. Whatever it was, it seemed as though a great shadow had passed from the Jones’s lives. She and Charlie dropped by the department store on their way and were met at home by an oddly ecstatic daughter who wrapped them both up in a hug and smiled in a way she hadn’t recently. Then, the three of them went out for pizza that night.

It had been a long time since they’d eaten out anywhere and she was pleasantly surprised to see Coraline trying pineapple and mushroom on her pizza, even like it (a little). They all laughed and talked like they had when they were in Michigan and she felt calm that she had not had room to entertain.

The three of them made plans for the flat garden party come Coraline’s spring break and when Charlie teased at her nose with a toy octopus she didn’t huff or groan, she just laughed and asked her when the invitations to their neighbors would be sent.

“Even Bobinsky?”

“Mr. B’s not drunk, mom, he’s just. Eccentric.” She flourished her hands as if her point had been made and Charlie laughed and tucked her in. When she was beginning to relax under the covers, Mel slipped the gloves by her pillow. Coraline followed her hand with confusion.

She smiled and shrugged at her as if to say ‘told you so’. Coraline smiled, bunching her eyebrows. Perhaps it was an ‘I’m sorry’ kind of look. The Jones parents turned her light off and left her room without another word. She had said that she would make it up if things went well, after all.

She went back downstairs to the kitchen to throw away their leftover pizza boxes and put her laptop on the charger. The night itself was still misty and cold, water running down the window outside in little uncertain streams.

She also had to throw out the groceries she’d bought that day (though there was a mostly full bottle of limeade she didn’t remember buying, as well as few slices in a box of chocolate cake). Somehow, they’d turned rancid and fly-bitten in the few hours since buying them. She supposed it had been an unusually wet February, and fruit flies had probably been breeding like rabbits, that was her best guess. She took the brown paper bag out into the lingering rain and dumped it by the crooked trash cans. Charlie could at least try to salvage them for a compost bin like he’d been writing about.

She was careful to hold the opening of the bag away from her face, and when it hit the muddy ground and a cloud of flies buzzed agitatedly, she yelped and ran back inside. She hated bugs.

She disposed of the rest of the trash properly and began a new list of what’d she’d need to replace what was lost. She would probably have to go out first thing in the morning, if they wanted to have any breakfast tomorrow, that is.

She wrote out a long list. It wouldn’t be much time until she and Charlie were on a new assignment and she didn’t want to have another empty fridge when that happened. She left it out on the table where she’d see it the next day and was sweeping most of the littered notes and receipts around it into a pile when she came across a piece of notepad paper. It was littered with ballpoint swirls, and scattered around the page were the letters:

M T

S

I

It was Coraline’s drawing, from when she’d been bored and bothering her for something to do. She hung the paper up on the fridge under a butterfly magnet, where they would see it. Perhaps Coraline had a bit of layout designer in her as well.

She woke up her laptop, surprised to find that the battery had run down so far, and found that a new word document had been open.

“There was a girl named Apple. She used to dance a lot. She danced and danced until her feet turned into sausages. The end.”

Maybe also a bit of a writer too. She would have to warn her against messing with her computer like that again though. She hadn’t expected the poor child to be quite that bored.

She plugged the laptop in, added a few other things to the list, and went to bed. She had troubled dreams of something clawed moving around the house, though, and the sounds of voices, high and whispering and very angry.

When she awoke the next morning, she was surprised to see Coraline already awake. On her hands and knees and going through the kitchen drawers and cupboards in her pajamas.

“You’re up early,” Mel said. She picked her shopping list up from the table.

Coraline startled up from where she was crouched on the floor, digging past dish sponges and paper towels. She relaxed some when she saw her and Mel was surprised by how wired she looked.

“Looking for something to eat?” She gave her a bemused look. “Don’t start eating any furniture. I gotta go food shopping today, I can get us all something for breakfast while I’m out if you want.”

Coraline looked uncertainly over the mess she’d made. “Do we have any tablecloths? Something you won’t miss? If I get it dirty- I mean.”

Mel raised an eyebrow. “What is this for, exactly?”

Coraline stood up straighter and began to speak louder. “I’m going to have a picnic with my dolls today. Out by the old tennis court.” Her eyes darted across the hallway floor momentarily.

“I didn’t think you played with your dolls anymore.”

Coraline looked around with some conspiratorial air. “I don’t. They’re protective coloration.”

“Uh-huh…” Mel shrugged.

She sifted through the linen drawer, past napkins and hand towels. “I don’t think we have one of those. But maybe I can find one while I'm out. Wanna come along?”

Coraline sighed. “Not even an old sheet?”

Mel laughed. “I’m afraid the ladies will have to wait for their picnic. All the old sheets are covering your grandmother’s furniture in the drawing-room. I don’t want them to get dusty.”

She seemed to think for a moment, considering the scarce cabinets. “Alright, I’ll come.” She inspected the kitchen with serious airs one last time and stepped towards the front door. Mel reminded her that she was still in her pajamas.

* * *

The shops weren’t too busy, though when were they ever in a place like Ashland. The drive had been quiet, though when she looked over at Coraline expecting her face to be exasperated or bored, she saw that it was scrunched up like she was thinking hard. She wondered briefly if something was wrong.

She meant to ask, but she was struck by the impression that there was something important that she’d forgotten. She chased the thought, hoping to find its source, and found she was already pulling into the parking lot.

She wasn't sure where they’d find a tablecloth, but she was certain that Coraline would be anxious to find one. They wound through the aisles to the party section to find on-sale valentines’ cards and cheerless, plain balloons and a few neatly folded vinyl fabrics in their wrappings.

Coraline put a hand on her hip and a finger to her chin and studied them all intently. “Maybe… that one?” She pointed to an off-white one with patterns of swirling flowers in red and yellow.

Mel picked it off the shelf, curious just what it was that seemed to meet her careful standards. “20 dollars for a cheap tablecloth,” she muttered.

“Oh- well, I mean. I can pay for some of it.” Coraline fished in her coat pocket and withdrew a wad of wrinkled bills.

Mel waved her off, though she was a bit endeared. “No, no. Save that for something nice.” She threw it in the basket. “Thank you though, that’s sweet of you.”

Coraline looked at her with surprise. She cut her off, “just put it to good use, ok?”

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure I will.” She smiled at her with some expression Mel couldn’t place.

She was starting to think that she was remembering what it was she’d forgotten when Coraline’s stomach growled. Her thoughts scattered like moths and she crossed her arms. “Ah, yes. Back to the task at hand, you hold the list and make sure we don’t miss anything.”

Coraline squinted at her oddly but took the list. Mel wasn’t sure how to react. “Unless you’d rather push.” She gesticulated at the cart. Coraline shrugged finally and took the paper.

They got the rest of the grocery shopping down without much conversation, Coraline listing things off the notepaper and Mel directing their expedition towards it until Mel remembered her tampered laptop.

“Did you use my laptop the other day?”

Coraline adjusted her coat, a bit shame-faced. “Oh yeah, sorry. I was waiting for you to get back. Guess I wasn’t sure what to really do.”

“We were gone maybe two hours?”

Coraline shrugged and tried to put on an innocent expression.

“Well, don’t mess with it anymore. I don’t want to lose anything important.”

“Sorry,” she said. She sounded more polite than she had been in two weeks.

Mel put her surprise away for now. “Alright. That’s okay.” She put a box of plain-tasting cereal in the basket. “Do you want a journal to write in? That way you can have your own stories without having to use the computer.”

She squinted at her in that odd way again. “No, that’s okay. I won’t use your computer again.”

Mel decided this must be some odd game she was playing. What was it that she’d been thinking of?

The mid-February weather was steadily beginning to improve, in increments, towards March weather. But they both still had to dress warmly against the cold, gray air. Mel looked over the Ashland shops for a place to get something hot to drink and breakfast for Coraline as they put the last bag in the car. Coraline rubbed her fingers over her gloves, and occasionally over her chin, staring at a puddle in the asphalt.

By the time they were in the Dutch Brothers drive-through line, she had lost any trail of what she'd forgotten, though it still buzzed about her. Coraline’s brow was furrowed and she would only either bounce her feet against the floor or look at the windows with a far and exhausted stare.

“What would you like?”

“Huh?”

“To eat? I think this place is a lot like a Biggby.”

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds good. But I can wait. 'S no big deal.” She was looking at her with doubt

“Are you not hungry?” She was small for her age, but she was rarely ever not hungry for something.

“Mm. I guess I could eat. I’d just like to head home soon.”

Mel gave her a look of puzzlement. Without speaking, she reached over and felt her forehead. Coraline twitched and grimaced with surprise but relented after a moment.

“You don’t have a fever.” That was good, the end of winter break was two days away, and putting off her first day at her new school by any longer would not be a good start. “Feel okay?”

“I’m fine!” Coraline waved her hand away. “I just had plans. With Wybie.”

“Oh, I see,” Mel smiled. “I didn’t know you were friends.”

“We’re not. He probably thinks I’m a head case.” Coraline put her chin in her hand.

“Well, you should eat anyways.” Mel recalled that she’d been skipping breakfast recently. She ordered her a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese and hot chocolate and tried to recall the symptoms Coraline had the last time she came down with a stomach bug. Even though the cream cheese came in a separate container, which Coraline always hated because it was cold and hard and flaked off the plastic knife in waxy pieces, she said thank you and ate slowly.

When the car rolled up in the muddy patch beside the flat, Coraline was the first to get out and begin unloading bags. Mel could see her peering inside each one and then around her at the fading winter brambles before she selected a particular bag. Then she squeezed a few more, seemingly at random, in the crooks of both arms and raced inside.

Mel picked up the last few and shut the trunk, watching her hurried pace up the steps to the door. She was about to call out to her not to run on the slick path, but she could see already there was no point. Perhaps she would have to talk to Charlie about her.

When she caught up to her in the kitchen, she was already mostly through putting her haul away, though in some disorder. Mel allowed her whirlwind path to go its course without a word. Hopefully, she would wear herself out and whatever had come over would pass.

She put the rest of the groceries away slowly, thinking. Coraline had reacted about how they had expected when faced with the prospect of moving so far out: with as much spite as an 11-year-old could muster. That she had been prepared for. Those creepy dreams had come as more of a surprise. She didn’t like how often she seemed to talk about them, and it concerned her that they seemed to be the only thing that had made her very happy since the move began. Until yesterday at least, but that didn’t put her much at ease. She of course expected her to adjust eventually, and she supposed kids bounced off of things in ways that could be surprising. But her scattered heel-face turn, it seemed wrong. There was that feeling of something she’d forgotten again.

Coraline bounded back into the kitchen with a cardboard box of dolls and plastic teacups she had received from Mel’s mother but had only played with a few times, as her cast of players in elaborate stories. The new tablecloth had been thrown over the box and only a few painted eyes looked out from underneath. She had a thick black ribbon around her neck that led under her collar. She took the plastic pitcher from where she’d left it on the counter during her search that morning and began to fill it from the sink, bunching her free hand in her coat pocket.

Something new occurred to Mel. “Have another one of those weird dreams?”

Coraline looked up from her handiwork, studying her as if she’d spoken in a code she was working to decipher. “I had a dream that some ghosts and I were playing together. When I woke up though, I think they’d all moved on.”

“Ah. Good for them.” She may have underestimated the power of Coraline’s imagination in all this. She put some of her unease aside. “Be back in time for lunch. Have fun. Oh, and don’t run, it's slick out there.”

Coraline nodded, then she put her box and her jug on the table and squeezed Mel tight. Just as suddenly she was out the door.

She watched the door swing closed, then she went to find Charlie.

He was in the hallway study, digging through the stacks of boxes that he’d yet to truly start unpacking, arranging his cassettes and CDs on the shelves. He looked up from his work when he heard her walk in and gesticulated with triumph at the progress he’d made. “What do you think?”

“It looks like less of a disaster zone, which is more than I can say for most of the house.”

“You may have to stand back and get the full picture before you can fully appreciate it.” He made a show of looking offended. “How was shopping?”

“Good.” She checked the hallway to make sure Coraline was gone. “She’s been funny.”

He softened. “These things take time. I remember when we had to move from my first house. It felt like I was being taken away from everything I knew.”

“I get that. But there’s something about how she’s been lately. I don’t know. Yesterday she seemed like a different person, but this morning she hardly talked.”

“She back to being mad?”

“No, not mad. I’m not sure. I was wondering if you could see for yourself if she’s caught something when she comes back from outside. You’re better at that kind of thing.”

“Hmm,” he opened a new box, this one full of the gardening tools. “Oh, that’s where those went.” He moved the box towards the door. “She did seem different yesterday.”

He looked up suddenly, “By the way, was there something you were supposed to remind me of?”

“I was about to ask the same thing.” They both laughed ruefully, and she smiled at the lack of tension that had been between them over their mounting deadlines.

“Well, I’m sure it's nothing her old man can’t handle.” He climbed to his feet from off the floor. “I’ll start on some lunch. Hopefully, she’ll eat it too.”

Mel shrugged. “Maybe something warm, it's cold and miserable out there, still.”

The two of them returned to the kitchen. Charlie began work on a bay and basil leaf tomato soup with vegetable grilled cheese, a happy compromise between his taste and Coraline’s, he felt. He also started the electric kettle and readied two mugs of instant coffee and a mug of berry tea. It was the only hot tea she drank.

He looked up with an odd expression and started to rifle through the drawer of keys which made Mel look up from her emails. “What do you need?”

“Hm. I swore I was looking for something in here. Can’t remember what.”

She chuckled. “We are seriously a mess.” Mel considered putting a pad of sticky notes on the fridge as well.

* * *

When Coraline did come back, she was grinning drowsily, a strange old cat they had never seen before circling between her muddied pant legs and purring. She set the box down, almost dropping it, and sat at the kitchen table wearily and giggled as the cat batted its paws at her gloved hand.

Mel was less pleased. “And just who is this?”

She looked up, beaming, “just my friend. Say hi, Cat.”

The black cat looked at her and then sat on its haunches, its tail curling into a question mark. Then it purred again.

“They like you; I think.” She took her coat off and draped it lazily over the back of the chair, then laid her head against her arms where they folded against the table. Charlie moved from where he was plating sandwiches and bent down to the cat, where it sniffed him and allowed him to stroke it gently. Mel had never seen a cat simply walk into her home. “It can stay, for now. I’m not keeping a cat though.”

“I know,” Coraline said. “They’re Wybie’s cat. We’ve just been getting to know each other these past few days.”

“What a funny guy,” said Charlie. He had found a particularly good spot behind the cat’s ear and the cat was purring loudly and leaning into his hand. “I don’t know that I have any lunch for them though.”

Mel noticed the box of dolls where it sat. “Coraline, put your things and your coat away first. And what happened to the tablecloth?”

Coraline perked up from where she’d been resting her head, looking caught. “Oh-uh. I gave it to Wybie.”

Mel sighed and shook her head.

“Sorry, mom.” She got up with some exertion and picked up her dolls and coat. She walked up to Charlie and embraced him gently. Then the cat followed her upstairs to her room.

Mel looked at Charlie. He was watching her climb the stairs with a puzzled face. Mel gestured as if to say ‘told you so’. He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully.

When she’d come back, the cat trailing behind, she examined the food with skepticism and looked between her mother and father. Mel looked across the table at Charlie, chasing a bite of sandwich with a swallow of hot coffee. They both relaxed again to watch Coraline hesitantly start to eat her sandwich, then with increasing enthusiasm, drink her tea, and tip her soup bowl back to get the last few drops. She pulled out the piece of broccoli that Charlie had been sure would get past her, but otherwise, she seemed to enjoy it. All three of them talked and laughed for a little and the cat even sat by the table, washing its ears and face politely.

Once she had finished and brought her plate to the sink where Mel was washing up it became clear that she was worn out. She dragged her feet across the yellowish floor and began to whisper her words in the way she did when she’d just woken up and hadn’t quite remembered how loud she should speak.

“Well,” Mel said. “I’ve got some sleep to be catching up on. Naptime anyone?”

Charlie stretched exaggeratedly. “I suppose I can make time.”

Both of them looked at Coraline. She shrugged. “Maybe.”

It wasn’t a definitive answer, but she and Charlie climbed up the stairs behind her anyways and tucked her into her bed, still in her muddy clothes. She sunk into the bedding almost instantly and rolled over. The two of them only heard a chirrup before the mangy old cat lept up beside her and curled into her side.

Charlie stifled a laugh. Mel considered picking it up and taking it back to the Wybie kid, but she decided against it. She’d just let Mrs. Lovat know about it.

Charlie went back to the study and she walked back to the fridge to find her number. She was waiting for the line to pick up when her eyes wandered above the kitchen doorway. The key she’d hung on the nail was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to be obsessed with the book and movie when I was about 10 or 9. My sibling told me about it a little while before it came out and I was hyped because they knew I loved stop motion and scary things. I believe they said something to the words of "its about a girl about your age who gets lured into this great new version of her world but it all turns out to be a scary trap made by a witch who wants to eat her" and I was like "sounds super cool!" I managed to find a copy in our school library because I wanted to be a prepared audience member. I loved both and I watched the movie on a weekly basis for a few months.
> 
> I'd almost forgotten all about it until this semester when I decided to use the novel as the subject of an analytical paper and I thought "wait. this is still tight" so I'm here to make 10-year-old me pleased.
> 
> Apparently Biggby Coffee is a Michigan thing and Dutch Bros is an Oregon thing. I'm from the east coast so lmk if there's a more appropriate choice.


	2. Victor's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coraline briefly reflects on her triumph, and what it will mean for the future.

As soon as her parents had gone, Coraline sat up in bed. The cat blinked its sleepy eyes, but otherwise stayed put.

She rubbed at the little spans of knitting just in between her fingers and thought. On plenty of occasions, she’d been told that she was ‘overexcited’ about something. She had never agreed before, but this time she was starting to understand the idea.

 _Over_ excited. All her triumph and fear and joy and exhaustion were bubbling up under her hands and in her heart and stomach and she hoped she wouldn’t burn up from the inside.

She’d won. The world outside was dull and tired and _real_. Her trap had closed around the other mother’s hand, falling down into the tarry dark of the well. She had counted the seconds while it fell, as well as her breaths, and got to 40 before she heard the splash. She’d have to make sure no one still drew water from the well.

It took the remainder of her strength to replace the heavy old boards that covered it. When she finished her arms ached the way they had when she’d slept in the car on the drive from Pontiac and had to fold them up against her to get comfortable.

The cat had caught up to her just as she was catching her breath, gathering her scattered toys into the box (what remained, some had fallen in with the hand). It had hopped up on the boards and winked its scarred old eye, then chirruped happily and rubbed between the jeans she’d muddied from kneeling on the ground and crawling under hedges.

It was the only one who knew about what had taken place that day, and she was happy to see it follow her home for lunch. Just seeing it seem so contented made her feel safe. It wouldn’t act that way unless she’d really won this time, after all.

She moved to sit by the bay window. It would’ve been more comfortable with a cushion. Her mother was right, she still had a lot of unpacking to do.

It had been scary to see the hand roam about like a spider, or a rat with an extra leg. For the obvious reasons, of course, but there was also frightening desperation in the way it skittered about in the corner of her eye and the intent it lunged for her and the key with. Before, the Other Mother had been careful with her, even loving, in her unfair and miserly way. When she saw it climb over rocks and race for her with its steel-sharp needles though, there was no way it had anything to do at all with love. She’d been more like a creature at that moment than ever. Hungry, hungry, and probably very angry.

She felt a bit guilty at the thought. Really, it was obvious she had never loved her, but it was frightening to see her true nature so clearly and it made her shiver to think what she may have done to her if she had escaped. Though Coraline was more frightened by the fact that she couldn’t imagine it.

She supposed she ought to be a little guilty. She was sure other children didn’t get lured into any magic spiderwebs, and then got their parents and neighbors caught up in it too.

She’d been watchful, just in case. Her mother and father did seem different, even after the hand fell into the well. They had made her food and tea that was only slightly gross and they had seemed to be looking at each other the way adults did when they were talking about you behind their backs. She was sure that it seemed too real to be one of her tricks. But she supposed the Other Mother could make herself look and sound exactly like her real mother (to the point that she’d raced right into her arms, a particularly humiliating trick) and she’d made the illusion in the mirror of her parents talking about how glad they were to be rid of her. She would have to wait, hunker down and be slow, like watching a summer storm that had just let up in case the sky opened up again.

She looked out the window and studied the gray tree line. They seemed _trees_ to her. She’d been checking everything she saw, even her own reflection in an oily puddle outside the supermarket, just in case she saw someone else. She was somewhat confident she’d covered her bases but would keep looking. With luck, she’d have time after school to check on the well.

Most importantly though, she would have to watch herself, to be careful about what she wished for from now on, in case something was listening in. Eating the food her parents put in front of her and remembering to say “please” and “thank you very much” and “I’m well, how are you?” and to say it like she meant it, was better than getting back into more trouble. At least until she could feel certain that everything had been put back in its place.

She returned to the bed, annoyed at how uncomfortable the window’s wooden bench was starting to get. Though she still considered it, looking out at the bleary sky and the Northwest woods beneath it. It looked interesting, she thought. She’d have to explore it soon. She’d also need to give the stone back to Spink and Forcible downstairs, and see how Mr. Bobinsky’s mice were. She would find the gardening tools too and see if she could fix her mother’s snowglobe and maybe the mirror too. Finally unpack, as much as she wasn’t looking forward to it. Have their garden party, which she was looking forward to. So many plans were blooming up in her thoughts that she hardly noticed when she fell deeply asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter from Coraline's perspective, after which we return to Mel. I love Mel's movie characterization and I'm gonna mostly be following her through the story, but now seemed a good time to catch up with what her daughter's been doing and thinking, to clear up some of her behavior from chapter 1.
> 
> Thank you all for the hits and kudos so far!


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